Purple and Crimson and Golden
by Elennare
Summary: "Life already seemed warmer. For the first time it came home to Katherine that life might be beautiful, even for her." (LM Montgomery, Anne of Windy Poplars). Snapshots of Katherine's Christmas at Green Gables.


AN: Written for Oonaseckar, for the Exchange at Fic Corner 2014 - I hope you enjoy it!  
>Thanks to my wonderful beta, bluealoe, who as always has gone above and beyond.<br>The title comes from a line in Anne of Windy Poplars: "but to Katherine it seemed a purple and crimson and golden Christmas.". Some lines in the story were also borrowed from the book, and are listed in the end notes.

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><p>Katherine looked thoughtfully at Anne as they walked along the frosty road. As always, the girl's eyes were darting here, there and everywhere, seeming to drink in the beauty around them. And there was plenty to drink in, Katherine freely admitted; even she could see that Avonlea was out of the ordinary. Snow-dusted trees lined their way, and the sun, shining through the leafless branches, turned every bit of ice into a glimmering jewel. But Anne wasn't as exuberant as she usually was, and Katherine guessed it had everything to do with where they were headed.<p>

"Mr. Cuthbert must have been very special to you," she said.

Anne laughed softly. "He wouldn't have known what to do if you called him that. He was always Matthew, to everyone, even me, almost from the moment I arrived. And he was very special… He's the first real person I remember who I loved and who loved me back - I don't remember my parents at all, and you can't really count a bookcase-girl or an echo-girl, even if they were real to me when I was small."

"A bookcase girl and an echo girl?" Katherine asked, completely bewildered.

With another laugh, Anne explained about Katie Maurice and Violetta, and Katherine listened in fascination. Her heart ached for the little girl she saw through Anne's story, a child so starved for affection she made friends out of her imagination. A child so familiar to Katherine… except she had not even had pretend companions to ease her loneliness.

"Matthew and I were friends from the beginning, when he picked me up from the station," Anne said. "I must have been a frightful shock, you know - they were expecting a boy, to help out on the farm, and instead he found me! He didn't know what else to do, so he took me back to Green Gables, and by the time we arrived we were friends. He convinced Marilla to keep me, instead of sending me back."

Katherine's eyebrows flew up in surprise. She could picture the child Anne would have been, vivacious, impulsive, full of love for life and ready to love everyone she met - an attractive child, as unlike Katherine herself as possible. How could anyone not want to keep her? But Katherine had no intention of telling her that.

"Tell me more about him," she said instead.

As Anne launched into a description of the shy, gentle man, Katherine privately remembered her occasional childhood wish that her family would just leave her at an orphanage, where there would be at least a chance of someone kind taking her in. As an adult, though, she realised just how lucky Anne had been to end up at Green Gables, with Matthew and Marilla. _And I never did have that kind of luck_, she thought bitterly.

.x.x.x.

Mrs. Lynde had never lost her habit of looking out through her windows towards the road as she worked, though Green Gables' seclusion usually meant passersby were few and far between. Tonight, though, she knew there would be at least one visitor, and she was not the only watcher. Davy, just returned from a day of gathering pine branches and ferns with Anne, Katherine, and Dora, refused to leave the window at all. Anne moved restlessly around the kitchen, unable to settle anywhere, but she kept returning to look out. And even Marilla, when she thought no-one was looking, could be seen taking quick glances towards the head of the long drive.

Finally, Davy's sharp eyes made out a figure at the gate. At his yell, Anne sprang for the door, and was gone before anyone else could move. Then - grabbing Davy's arm to prevent him from following Anne - Marilla rose and led everyone to the entrance hall, to welcome Gilbert.

The tall young man stepped through the door with Anne, and was immediately mobbed by the twins -Well, Dora could never be said to 'mob' anyone, but Davy made more than enough noise for them both, and even his sister forgot herself enough to run up and hug Gilbert rather than waiting primly until he should come to her. Mrs. Lynde and Marilla also came forward to greet him, so that Katherine was left alone. Not for long, though - Anne spotted her hanging back, and dove through the rest to pull her forward and introduce her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Brooke," Gilbert said warmly as he shook her hand, and somehow Katherine believed him. There was none of the snobbishness in his face and voice she had always loathed in her family's acquaintances, and she found herself smiling naturally at him as she replied.

"Likewise, Mr. Blythe. Anne's told me a good deal about you."

Gilbert's eyes twinkled. "Has she told you about our first meeting?" Ignoring his fiancee's cry of "Gilbert!", he continued, "She cracked her slate over my head. How's that for a promising beginning?"

Katherine looked at Anne in astonishment, and she nodded, blushing as red as her hair. "It's true, I'm afraid - but in my defense, he called me 'Carrots', and much as I hated my hair, I hated being teased about it even more."

"But you have beautiful hair," Katherine said, then wondered why she had. She couldn't regret it, though, as Anne's lovely smile flashed in thanks.

"It's darker now than it used to be; in those days, I have to admit carrots was the right word for it."

"Didn't you lose your temper at poor Mrs. Lynde when she pointed it out, too?" Gilbert asked wickedly, and Anne buried her face in her hands.

"Oh, stop, stop! What will Katherine think of me?" But her eyes as she peeked through her fingers were sparkling with merriment. "I was horribly rude to her, you know. What a dreadful example for our pupils!"

Mrs. Lynde laughed. "Why, I'd forgotten all about that. You did have a terrible temper in those days, there's no two ways about it, but you grew out of it - which is more than I can say about your teasing, you wicked boy!"

"Guilty as charged, ma'am," Gilbert replied with a chuckle.

"Well, you folk can stand about in the entrance hall all night reminiscing if you've a mind too, but I'm going back to the kitchen," Marilla interjected crisply at this point. "The parlour's aired if you'd rather sit there, Anne."

"Can we go and sit in the parlour too?" Dora pleaded; she had a great love for the pretty room.

"Not tonight, Dora. Come along, twins," Marilla commanded.

Obediently, the pair followed her, Mrs. Lynde bringing up the rear. Anne and Gilbert, arms linked, moved towards the parlour door that led off from the hall; and, with a smile that tried to be sarcastic but failed, Katherine left them alone and followed the little procession to the kitchen.

.x.x.x.

Katherine grimaced at Anne's suggestion she should have a red dress; of all colours, that was the very last she would normally consider. She submitted with as much grace as she could summon up to having the red collar added to her outfit, though, and allowed Anne to begin working on her hair. Usually she'd have flatly refused both, but there was a glint in Anne's eye that suggested she meant to have her way in the end. Besides, she was secretly touched by the realisation that Anne must have worked on the collar in secret, waiting to surprise her with it. She couldn't let this meddling pass without at least a token protest, though.

"I've always hated red. When I went to live with Uncle Henry, Aunt Gertrude always made me wear aprons of bright Turkey-red. The other children in school used to call out 'Fire,' when I came in with one of those aprons on. Anyway, I can't be bothered with clothes."

"Heaven grant me patience! Clothes are _very_ important," said Anne severely, as she braided and coiled. "Didn't you wish for nicer clothes, when you had to wear your cousin's cast-offs? I know I did, when I was with Mrs Thomas and Mrs Hammond, or at the orphanage."

"Oh, certainly!" Katherine retorted impatiently. "But I knew I might as well have wished for the moon, so I taught myself not to care for them at all. Didn't you?"

"Not at all!" Anne replied with a gay laugh. "I used to imagine my cast-offs away, and give myself wonderful gowns instead. I loved to read, you see, especially fairy stories. I'd imagine I had a princess's shining silk dress, and picture every last detail until it was far more real than my old ragged things." Pinning down a dark coil, she continued, "When I was at the orphanage, too, grand ladies used to visit it sometimes. I'd look at their lovely furs and satins and velvets and jewels, and store everything away in my head, then make myself beautiful clothes to imagine I was wearing instead of our horrid yellow-gray wincey!"

"Fur and velvet, how practical for a child," Katherine said. "I'm beginning to have second thoughts about accepting your fashion advice!" Her tone was sarcastic, but there was genuine amusement there too, instead of her usual scorn, and Anne smiled to hear it.

"Wait until you see yourself before doubting me! You'll eat those words yet," she answered. Then she looked at her work and saw that it was good. She put her arm about Katherine's shoulders and turned her to the mirror.

"Don't you truly think we are a pair of quite good-looking girls?" she laughed.

Katherine could not reply, only stare wide-eyed at her reflection, astonished by the with only half an ear to the younger girl, she tried to work out how a simple hairstyle could have produced such a transformation. She had always just dragged her hair back, not caring how it looked as long as it was out of the way. Anne had arranged the dark braids so that they framed her face instead, and somehow it made all the difference. Then, realising Anne was no longer chattering about their acquaintances but talking to her once more, she dragged her attention back to the conversation. But she couldn't look away from the mirror entirely. She'd always thought of herself as plain, and her features themselves hadn't changed, but Anne seemed to have woven some of her own spark into the braids, gifted her some of her own lightheartedness along with the collar, so that Katherine too shone.

.x.x.x.

The little station receded into the distance as the train gathered speed, and the two women stopped waving and settled more comfortably into their seats. Katherine leant down to make sure her puppy was happy in his basket. After long discussion, she had finally named him Robin Goodfellow - Rob for short - due to his mischievous ways. She rubbed his ears, smiling as he wagged his tail and turned his head to lick her hand.

Straightening again, she took a deep breath. She had to say this, and say it now, before she lost her nerve.

"Anne… thank you," Katherine began abruptly, and Anne's eyes left the scenery they had been feasting on and fixed on hers. She quickly held up a hand to prevent her from replying.

"Don't interrupt me, please, just let me say everything I have to say. It's not much, but… I never like thanking people as a general rule, I hate feeling I owe people anything, but I do have to thank you for inviting me to spend Christmas with you. I never thought there could be a place like Green Gables, or people like Miss Cuthbert and Mrs. Lynde and… oh, everyone in Avonlea. It's changed me. You've pulled me out of my shell, and I have to thank you for that… Thank you for caring enough to keep trying, despite all the times I pushed you away. I can hardly believe the difference it's made… So, thank you, Anne."

Anne's smile seemed to light up the carriage. "I'm so happy to hear that! But really, Katherine, I didn't do much."

"Not much?" Katherine interrupted. "You let me see what home and happiness felt like, you shared them with me."

"But you had the strength and the courage to reach out and grasp them, and let them into your heart," Anne said. "And if you've gained, so I have I; I've gained a friend."

Katherine gave her a half-smile. "That may be so, but I owe you a great deal, Anne, I know I do… I'm almost afraid that when we get back to Summerside, I'll go back to being my old self once again, but I shan't let myself. I know who I can be now. And I'll have Rob to remind me," she finished with a fond pat to the little dog.

"You'll have me, too," Anne replied, smiling. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me now! And you shall come with me to Avonlea for weekends, whenever we're missing the magic of Green Gables."

"And for the summer," Katherine completed. "I haven't forgotten I promised everyone I would, and I'm looking forward to it."

She really was, she realised as she said the words. She, who never looked forward to anything! She might be going back to the drudgery of teaching now, but at least she could leave her old boarding-house for somewhere more pleasant; and she had Rob to keep her company, Anne's friendship, and Green Gables waiting for her return. Suddenly, she found she could almost believe in Anne's 'bend in the road', believe there might be something new and wonderful in store even for her.

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><p>AN:<p>

Borrowed phrases:

"I've always hated red. When I went to live with Uncle Henry, Aunt Gertrude always made me wear aprons of bright Turkey-red. The other children in school used to call out 'Fire,' when I came in with one of those aprons on. Anyway, I can't be bothered with clothes."

"Heaven grant me patience! Clothes are very important," said Anne severely, as she braided and coiled.

(...)  
>Then she looked at her work and saw that it was good. She put her arm about Katherine's shoulders and turned her to the mirror.<p>

"Don't you truly think we are a pair of quite good-looking girls?" she laughed.


End file.
